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Fenway and Hattie
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014
Text copyright © 2017 by Victoria J. Coe.
Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Kristine Lombardi.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Coe, Victoria J.
Title: Fenway and Hattie and the Evil Bunny Gang / Victoria J. Coe.
Description: New York, NY : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, [2017]
Summary: “When Fenway’s beloved short human, Hattie, brings home a
rival pet in the form of a fluffy, twitching rabbit, Fenway’s determined to
oust the intruder—but doing so will cost him”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016009820 | ISBN 9781101996331 (hardback)
Subjects: | CYAC: Jack Russell terrier—Fiction. | Dogs—Fiction. | Rabbits—Fiction. | Pets—Fiction. | Human-animal relationships—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Dogs. | JUVENILE FICTION / Humorous Stories. | JUVENILE FICTION / Lifestyles / Country Life.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.C635 Fg 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016009820
Ebook ISBN: 9781101996355
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Contents
Other Books by Victoria J. Coe
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Lauri and Matthew—the Best Siblings Ever
I’m out in the Dog Park behind our new house, enjoying a refreshing roll-around in the grass when I pick up the despicable smell of rodent. It can only be one thing—a squirrel!
Before I can react, Hattie flops down beside me. “Aw, Fenway,” she coos, squinting at me in the bright sun.
I shimmy up to her till we’re nose to nose. I give hers a sloppy lick. She tastes like the maple-y pancakes we shared this morning.
She giggles, stroking my fur the way she does at bedtime. What can I say? Hattie loves me more than anything in the whole world.
I go to snuggle her neck when that squirrel-y odor assaults my nose again. Stronger this time. That nasty rodent is way too close to my short human!
Don’t they ever learn? I spring up, my hackles on high alert. I scan the porch, the bushes, the giant tree . . . aha! Over by the back fence, a flicker of movement. A flouncy tail. A chippery, chattery squawk. It’s a nasty squirrel all right! I’m after him in a flash.
“Go away, Intruder!” I bark. “Can’t you see the fence?”
He’s not supposed to be here! Dog Parks are for dogs to play chase. And for Hattie to play ball with other short humans or Fetch Man. Even Food Lady’s been playing in the Dog Park lately, digging in the dirt and sprinkling water in the patch where vegetables started growing.
Clearly, the Dog Park is no place for squirrels!
And this nasty squirrel is perched on a root of the giant tree, calmly swishing his tail like he’s not in any danger at all. Is he really not intimidated by a ferocious Jack Russell Terrier? Or have his eyes and ears stopped working?
I snarl my fiercest snarl. “This is your last chance!”
Just as I’m ready to lunge, he shoots off the tree root and into the rustling bushes.
Does he think he can hide?
“I warned you! Now pay the consequences!” I plunge my snout in after him. That squirrel-y stench is almost unbearable.
I’m about to crawl under the bush when I hear swish, snap to my right.
His beady little head pops out of the next bush over. His body spurts out onto the grass, his fluffy tail whooshing behind him.
Panting wildly, I chase him through the grass. My sides are heaving, but I will not give up! I’m gaining on him! I’m about to grab his flouncy little tail—
But that nasty squirrel hurls himself onto the side fence. He scurries to the top and dives into the Dog Park next door.
“And don’t come back!” I thrust out my chest in victory. Ridding the Dog Park of squirrels is a tough job. But luckily, I’m a professional.
I rush back to Hattie, who’s headed toward the porch. I jump on her legs. “Great news!” I bark. “The nasty squirrel is gone.”
She scoops me into her arms, showering me with kisses. She must be awfully grateful I saved her from the dangerous threat. Again.
“No big deal. Just doing my job,” I bark, snuggling into her shirt.
Hattie hurries up the porch steps, happily hopping over a tangled jump rope, stepping around a rumpled sweatshirt, and kicking aside some old sneakers. The porch is good and messy, just the way Hattie likes it. Good thing Food Lady’s not out here to ruin it.
“That squirrel put up a good fight, but he’s no match for me.” I nuzzle in for more kisses of appreciation.
But Hattie’s got something else on her mind. She sets me down and snatches the fat leathery glove off the table. She pulls out a white ball and tosses it high above her head. She spins around as it shoots way up, then falls way down and lands—thwap!—inside the glove.
I squirm wildly with an awesome realization: We’ve got a ball to play with! I chase Hattie off the porch and back onto the grass.
“Yippee! Time to play,” I bark, romping around her legs.
Hattie laughs and goes into her windup. I’m trotting out for a head start when we hear promising sounds from the Dog Park next door. F-f-f-f-t! A screen door sliding open . . . short human footsteps . . . and jingling dog tags!
“More great news, Hattie!” I bark, my tail thumping wildly. “Our best friends are coming!”
We head to the side fence and pause at our favorite spot—the new gate that appeared after Fetch Man and Tool Man spent a whole day banging and sawing. Now our Dog Park’s even more fun than the big one back in the city, because we can romp around with our friends anytime we want.
Hattie’s bouncing. I’m leaping and twirling. Because the Friend Gate is swinging open!
Out rushes a short human
with a cap and a bushy tail of hair like Hattie’s. It’s our friend Angel!
“I’m so happy to see you,” I bark, jumping on her dirt-smeared legs.
“Fenway, off!” Hattie commands.
I drop down, and Angel gives me a quick pat. She smells very excited. She waves her fat leathery glove at Hattie. She must really want to play.
A Golden Retriever and a white dog with black patches burst through the gate. Hooray! Hooray! It’s Goldie and Patches!
We do the bum-sniffing circle dance. “’Sup, ladies?” I say, my tail swishing out of control.
“Something’s gotten into our Angel,” Goldie announces, tough and gruff as usual. “She’s been buzzing around like a bee ever since breakfast.”
“Actually, it started last night when she opened that envelope,” Patches corrects in her lovely and gentle voice. “She practically exploded with glee.”
Goldie shoots Patches a grumpy look. “The point is she’s almost as energetic as Fenway. Just look at her.”
Beaming, Angel unzips her jacket and twirls around. It flaps in the warm breeze. Hattie looks on, impressed.
Wait a minute! Angel’s wearing a jacket? Hattie hasn’t worn a jacket in a Long, Long Time. She only wears jackets when it’s cold or raining, not when it’s hot and dry. Angel smooths the swishy jacket lovingly with her hands. She’s acting awfully proud of it, even though one whiff reveals it’s brand-new and hasn’t ever been worn before.
Her eyes full of excitement, Angel reaches into the pocket and whips out two stiff, papery strips. She waves them in front of Hattie like they’re a couple of bones. Or yummy hot dogs. Her face is glowing. I hear her exclaim two thrilling words that I know: “Fenway” and “park”!
My ears shoot up. Angel’s talking about me!
Hattie pumps her fist in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she squeals.
I romp over to Angel. “Wowee! Are we going to the park?” I bark, my tail going nuts.
But Angel ignores me. Hattie, too. They leap up and slap hands. Then they start tossing the white ball back and forth.
I cock my head. We’re not going anywhere. Didn’t Angel say we were going to the park?
I look over at the ladies. And not a moment too soon. Goldie’s found a stick. She waggles it a few times, then takes off.
Talk about an irresistible invitation!
Me and Patches bolt across the grass. The chase is on!
Angel and Hattie are running around, too. The ball flies from one short human to the other. Whizzzzz . . . thwap! Whizzzzz . . . thwap! “Yeah!” Angel cries. She pulls the ball out of her glove and sends it back to Hattie.
Goldie rounds the giant tree near the back fence. Me and Patches are right on her tail, our tongues lolling, our sides heaving. We’re so close to nabbing that stick!
“Careful, Fenway,” Patches calls, panting. Angel’s backpedaling right into our path. We weave around her in the nick of time.
That’s Patches, always looking out for me. “Thanks,” I cry.
“Fenway! Oh, Fenwaaaay!” Goldie’s stopped near the side fence. Her eyes smug and taunting, she hovers over the stick. Which is lying still in the grass. And up for grabs.
It’s too tempting to resist! Me and Patches tear after it. “That stick is mine!” I shout. My jaws are ready to chomp!
But at the very last second, Goldie snatches it and takes off the other way.
“No fair!” I yell. We sprint after her. I sneak a glance at Patches, who starts gaining ground on Goldie. She’s going to beat me! There’s only one thing to do—change my strategy.
Up ahead, I see the Best Idea Ever. Instead of making a wide turn, I take a shortcut through the vegetable patch.
I bound into the lettuce leaves, ready to tear on through. But I’m barely halfway across when I stop still in my tracks. Eeeeew, what’s that horrible smell?
I take a look around. The soil isn’t level and smooth the way it usually is. It’s all dug up. The lettuces are toppled and torn. Uh-oh! Yesterday, they were full and leafy. Clearly, something is wrong.
Everywhere I look, there’s more damage. A curly squash vine is severed, and its blossoms are gone. What’s happened?
I sniff all around, my fur prickling with alarm. That scent is awfully mysterious! It’s not a squirrel. Or a chipmunk. Or a bird. But it’s a wild creature all right.
A sure sign of danger! I must discover who ruined the plants!
My nose follows the trail through fallen tomato stems and chewed pepper leaves to the most odorous spots. I plunge my snout into hole after hole, gathering news. Right away, I detect that the mysterious creature was here very recently. My fur prickles some more. What if he’s lurking nearby, about to strike?
“Hey!” Hattie yells. Her arms flail as the white ball sails way over her head. She watches the ball land—plop!—right next to me, her eyes widening in horror. She’s obviously alarmed by the terrible danger, too.
Like there’s not a professional already on the case! “Don’t worry, Hattie!” I bark, rummaging through the raggedy leaves. “I’ve got this!”
But as I’m crawling over a zucchini flower, my hind leg snags on a vine. The back door flies open and Food Lady races out.
“Hattie!” Food Lady sounds upset. She sprints across the porch, nearly tripping over Hattie’s tangled jump rope.
“FEN-way!” Hattie cries, her voice high with alarm. She charges at me, right toward the danger!
I free my hind leg and dart around the ripped zucchini leaves. That nasty creature could still be at large. Anything could happen! “Nobody panic. I’ll find the troublemaker!” I get back to sniffing like crazy.
Food Lady speeds through the grass. “FEN-way!” she snaps. Her arms wave. Her eyes bulge. She’s clearly even more upset by the danger than Hattie is.
Hattie circles the vegetable patch, her arms reaching for me. “Fenway! Come!” she cries.
I scoot through the uneven soil, carefully avoiding the holes. It’s obvious Hattie and Food Lady want to help. But this job is way too dangerous for my humans. Especially when they’re totally freaked out.
I must concentrate! I’m pawing around a tangle of squash vines where the mysterious stench is unmistakable when I see Food Lady’s reaching fingers. She’s always taking care of the vegetable patch. Nobody loves it as much as she does. Though she has to realize there’s a professional right here, already hard at work.
I zoom deeper into the plants, my nose sniffing away. I must find the culprit and save the day!
Food Lady gasps and inspects the torn lettuce leaves. They look like they’ve been shredded. Or nibbled. It almost could be a clue. But who would destroy plants that smell like boring vegetables?
“I can hardly stand to watch,” I hear Patches’s lovely voice say.
“When will the guy ever learn?” Goldie murmurs.
It’s nice to know the ladies appreciate the danger I’m in, but I think I can handle myself. Plus, I can’t be distracted by my friends. Or a couple of fallen squash blossoms. The real evidence is right here in the dirt. And I’m going to find it. If I can just get to the right place to sniff . . .
I follow the scent to some stinky pellets. Aha! The evil creature’s droppings? They sure smell suspicious. And dropping-ish. Talk about promising! This could be the Greatest Discovery Yet. I must get a better sniff—hey!
Hattie clutches my collar and hoists me up. “FEN-way,” she scolds. She avoids Food Lady’s scowl.
I squirm. I kick. I must get loose! “Not now, Hattie! I have a job to do!”
Hattie doesn’t seem to understand the danger we’re in. Or how close I am to nabbing the culprit. She clutches me tighter.
Food Lady rises and shakes her head, her face frowning. She points at the torn plants, the ripped-up soil, then at us. She speaks with lots of words I don’t know. “Wah-chim,�
� she says. Her voice sounds accusing. Is she mad that Hattie interrupted my work? It’s almost as if she’s blaming us for the damage to the vegetables. Talk about a mix-up!
Hattie nods, her shoulders slumping. She winces at Food Lady but somehow manages to look hopeful at the same time. She glances at Angel, who reaches into her jacket and shows Food Lady the stiff, papery strips.
Hattie begs at Food Lady for a Long, Long Time. She says the same two thrilling words that Angel did: “Fenway” and “park.” She tilts her head. “Please? Please? Please?”
My tail thumps. Hattie wants to take me to the park!
But Food Lady is not so sure. She crosses her arms and lets out a whooshy breath. She goes back to talking in that exasperated tone. She points at the porch littered with Hattie’s things. She points at the raggedy plants. She points at me, kicking wildly in Hattie’s arms.
Hattie’s eyes are still pleading. Her words come out quickly, and her voice sounds desperate. She smells impatient. And determined.
Food Lady raises an eyebrow.
Hattie sucks in a breath. She exchanges a questioning glance with Angel. The short humans clearly want to get back to playing ball instead of listening to Food Lady being angry.
I know how they feel. I wiggle harder. If only I could convince Hattie to put me down. I have to get back to that vegetable patch and keep investigating. The clues are in there!
While Hattie and Food Lady talk some more, Angel quietly takes the glove off her hand. She trudges toward the Friend Gate, gesturing for Goldie and Patches to follow. Before shutting the gate, Angel sneaks a glance back at Hattie. Her eyes are hopeful, her thumbs up.
“See you later, Fenway,” Patches mutters.
When everybody’s gone, Food Lady points again at the dug-up soil, the ripped-up vegetables, the porch where Hattie’s clothes and sneakers and toys are strewn all over. She crosses her arms.
Hattie gets back to begging. “Please-please-please,” she says.
Food Lady’s face softens. She must be starting to cave because she lets out a sigh and says, “Weul-see.”
Fenway and Hattie and the Evil Bunny Gang Page 1
